


ours is a stormy kind of love

by yanak324



Series: love on the brain [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, No Spoilers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of depression, resolving arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/pseuds/yanak324
Summary: It’s moments like this that Arya recalls how her mother used to say that she and Gendry were like oil and water, both unwilling to bend to the other but also unable to fully separate.





	ours is a stormy kind of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slayertown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slayertown/gifts).

> This is entirely the fault of my muse and also my discussion with slayertown about U2 songs that have major Gendrya vibes. I've been dying to explore their dynamic when it comes to Arya's recovery, because I don't think it would be so clear cut. There's some sensitive subject matter here but I hope I've done it justice. Title taken from "The Sweetest Thing" and as always, I own nothing. Thank you for reading <3

She can tell he’s pissed by the clench of his jaw and the way he stares straight ahead, eyes never veering off the road. 

On the days he picks her up from her appointments, he usually let’s her have quiet time in the car, aware that she probably has a lot of process. 

He does little things though to let her know he’s just giving her space; like dropping a hand on her knee or giving her a gentle smile at every red light or putting on the KPop playlist she likes. 

Today though, Gendry has done none of those things and while Arya understands why, it doesn’t mean she has to like it. 

In fact, it actually irks her like no other. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she would absolutely give him a piece of her mind.

Instead, they continue to sit in terse silence. Neither willing to capitulate or acknowledge that the air between them is decidedly charged with unspoken words. 

It’s moments like this that Arya recalls how her mother used to say that she and Gendry were like oil and water, both unwilling to bend to the other but also unable to fully separate. 

Arya just thinks he’s being a righteous ass for no reason. 

It’s her life and her recovery and he doesn’t need to act like the world is going to fall apart if she doesn’t follow every single one of Dr. Jurne’s recommendations. 

Just because they’re going to get married does not mean he gets to tell her what to do. Her eyes flicker down to the engagement ring on her finger, but today it doesn’t inspire the same feelings of excitement it usually does. Instead, it just makes her feel caged.

That’s not the relationship she signed up for and it’s sure as hell not going to be the marriage they have. If Gendry doesn’t know that, well then all the times she’s playfully called him an idiot were not for nothing. 

“What do you want for dinner?” 

She refuses to look at him as she answers, keeping her eyes on the scenery flying by. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry.” 

His frustrated exhale comes through loud and clear in the confines of the car. 

“Well you have to eat, especially if you have to take the pills Dr. Jurne prescribed.” 

Is he fucking kidding? 

“Stop the car,” Arya says as she finally whips her head around to fix him with the coldest stare she can muster. 

Gendry’s eyes flicker to hers for just a moment, but he appears unaffected. Like she’s some sort of child on the verge of a tantrum that does not need to be taken seriously. 

“I said stop the fucking car, Gendry.” 

He looks at her like he can’t quite believe she’s asking him to do this. But a second later, he switches lanes and pulls to a stop on the side of the road. 

Arya is out faster than lightening, inhaling the crisp autumn air as she looks up into the sky; silently begging the heavens to give her strength to deal with this bullheaded man. 

She hears his car door slam and then – 

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” 

He’s come around the car and is in front of her now. Normally, she’d get distracted by how utterly attractive he is, especially with his eyes shining so intensely against the light orange and pink of the sky and the lushness of the fields around them. Right now she’s just mad. Mad and frustrated that he doesn’t seem to understand why this isn’t such an easy decision for her. 

“What the fuck is the matter with me?” She asks, incredulity dripping from every word, “what the fuck is the matter with you?! Trying to get me medicated when I’ve told you time and again, I’m not taking any fucking pills.” 

She doesn’t usually curse that much. Hells in the past four years since she’s moved down here, since they agreed to give their relationship an actual go, Arya can count on one hand the times she’s seriously raised her voice at Gendry. 

Sure, they bicker, but full blown, drag out fights? 

No, they don’t do that anymore; preferring to work out their grievances with one other in a way that requires less talking, and more touching. 

Right now though, all she can see is red. Maybe that’s why it takes her just a moment to register the change in Gendry’s demeanor. 

His eyes lose some of their irritation and his shoulders drop, defiance seeping out of them as he takes a few careful steps towards her. 

“Medicated? Is that what you think I’m advocating for here?” 

His softer tone is what ultimately gives her pause but it doesn’t completely extinguish the frustration she feels. 

“What else am I supposed to think when the second you heard Dr. Jurne’s suggestion you practically shoved me towards the pharmacy?” 

“Arya.” 

Her name sounds like a prayer on his lips. It always does. No matter if they’re fighting, fucking, or simply existing together, and it usually makes her feel warm, safe, protected. 

Not now though. 

Now it just makes her want to cry, makes her want to pound her fists against his broad chest and show him all the reasons why all of this is so bloody unfair.

Maybe she is the obstinate child. Maybe he should have ignored her in the first place. 

In the maelstrom of her thoughts, she doesn’t even realize Gendry’s now standing just a few inches away from her until he reaches out to touch her arm. 

His hand is warm, warmer than she expected, and she feels it, the steadying touch even through two layers of clothing. 

“I’m not trying to medicate you. I’m just trying to make sure that you don’t run yourself ragged. You haven’t slept properly for weeks. I don’t know how it is when you’re away but every time you’re home, I know you don’t sleep and I just figured what’s the harm in getting a little help for that?”

When he puts it like that, it’s so hard for her to argue, because it’s true. 

Sleep has been a lot more out of reach lately. It’s not the nightmares, those have become almost nonexistent since she started using some of the techniques she learned in her sessions. 

But recently, she’s only been able to truly sleep when she’s beyond exhausted. That leaves her lying wide awake for hours on end, dozing sometime in the early morning before either her alarm or Gendry inevitably stir her awake.

She knows it’s wearing down on her. Traveling for work now seems like more of a task than ever. She’s lost some weight and has had to use concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes. 

But it’s still her fucking mess of a life. When she started her recovery, really truly committed to getting better, she told herself she’d never take pills. She would never become that person who needed to rely on medication to make herself feel better. 

And yet…

She also can’t deny that this no longer affects just her. 

She’s spent years holding onto her independence, eschewing social norms and proving to anyone who would listen that Arya Stark was a lone wolf who needed nothing other than an open road and adventure. 

But, as cliché as the story goes, she couldn’t stay away from her home, from her pack. Then she reconnected with a boy who had been the first to see her and to love her for all the wild freedom in her veins. Who never once tried to cage her, even as he nervously slipped a moonstone engagement ring on her finger and told her that it reminded him of the color of her eyes. 

It’s that memory in particular, the way Gendry had been so terrified that she would run away from him the second he proposed, that finally snuffs out most of her anger. 

That and the absolutely patient way he waits for her to say something, anything. 

Arya has never been good with words; is shit really with declarations of love and anything related to her emotions. 

She’s getting better at it but there’s only really one thing that she wants to say and she’s not brave enough to do it while looking into bottomless blue eyes filled with so much love.

She steps right into Gendry’s space and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek right against his chest where she can hear his heartbeat. 

“I’m just scared. I’m scared of becoming someone I don’t recognize. I don’t want to lose myself in all of this.” 

Gendry’s grip tightens around her in immediate response, and she greedily takes it, losing herself in his scent – a mix of leather and wood and something else she’s never been able to pinpoint. The firmness of his arms around her throws into stark contrast the cool breeze now starting to pick up around them. 

It might rain tonight, she thinks, and it’s a thought that comes seemingly out of nowhere but is testament to how his proximity settles her, how she feels like she can do anything if he just holds her like this for the rest of their lives. 

It’s why she nearly lets out a whine of protest when Gendry moves to separate from her.

“You’re Arya Stark. You always are and always will be, and I’d never let you forget that.” 

He looks at her with such conviction in his eyes, it nearly takes her breath away. It makes her almost dizzy with the realization of how much she loves this man, and how she’s never believed anyone as much as she believes him in this moment. 

And because she is who she is, she can’t help but say, 

“So, not taking your last name then?” 

They’ve never talked about it, and it’s absolutely not the right time for this digression but the way Gendry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise makes her smile for the first time in a long time, filling her unexpectedly with joy. 

“Didn’t think it was an option.” 

He says it almost deferentially, while reaching out and tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. Arya’s never really thought about it, but for once, the idea of being someone else, of being _ His _ even in name, doesn’t scare her so much.

“It’s your choice what you do with Dr. Jurne’s recommendation. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I just worry is all.” 

Gendry sounds so serious and so self-flagellating, she can’t help but pull him back to her again, chin resting against him as she looks up at him. 

“I know you do and I’m sorry for having such a visceral reaction. I just-…”

But it feels almost unnecessary to explain herself. He understands, and she can see that in his eyes, in his demeanor, in how firmly he holds her and gives her the strength to deal with all the messiness in her head.

“I don’t deserve you,” Arya finally settles for something else, something that sounds truer than anything she’s said so far.

Gendry doesn’t appear to agree. 

He leans down and presses a barely there kiss to her lips but one that Arya feels all the way down in her toes. Suddenly, she wishes they weren’t standing by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but somewhere where he could kiss her again, and properly. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” He counters almost as soon as he pulls away, “you deserve more than I can ever give you, but you especially deserve rest right now, so let’s go home.” 

She lets him walk her back to the car without argument. Lets him do the chivalrous thing and hold the door open for her before he gets in himself. When he drops his hand onto her knee, she turns it over and laces their fingers together, keeping it in her lap. 

“Nuggets,” she says ten minutes into their resumed drive, “chicken nuggets and a large strawberry milkshake. That’s what I want for dinner.” 

Whereas Gendry would normally berate her for the horribly unhealthy choice, he just smiles his brilliant smile at her, blue eyes nearly sparkling as he pulls their joint hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles. 

“As m’lady wishes,” he says before turning back to the road. 

She doesn’t fill Dr. Jurne’s prescription but that night, she sleeps better than she has in months.


End file.
